Matters of the Heart
by rockyyy
Summary: I was too drunk to realize how afraid I was--or should be, of him.
1. Random Rescue

A/N: You know those times when you have stuff stuck in your head and it keeps bugging you until you write it out? This is one of those times. Yeeeeah, there's an OC. This probably isn't going to be amazing, but I hope you like it if you read.

Disclaimer: Batman and DC Comics and anything Nolanverse aren't mine--because if they were, I wouldn't be going to college with the surplus of money I'd be getting.

---

_To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead._

_-- Bertrand Russel_

I should have died that night.

He told me different, but I really should have died.

If it weren't for his uncharacteristic pang of sympathy, I would not be here.

Maybe, seeing as how things turned out, it would have been better. If he had just left me there. But for whatever reason, he didn't. He didn't just let me burn.

For whatever reason, he saved me.

I remember the entire place going up in smoke in the matter of minutes. As to why I was there in the first place, I don't really know. I think it was my cousin's birthday, Hollis. She was turning twenty-one, and there I was gallivanting around the bar like _I_ was the one who was drinking legally for the first time. I don't remember when we got there or who we came with or even seeing my cousin at all after we first stepped in; all I can see in my mind before looking up at him through the flames was myself sitting at the bar, laughing and mock-flirting with some man gracing forty years old and downing a fifth glass of vodka. I shouldn't have done that, thinking back--maybe I would have been sober enough to have gotten myself out of there before the Scarecrow lit it up like a Roman candle.

I was shooing away the drunk guy and giggling at myself at around midnight, I guess it was, and then there were screams, lots of them, mostly from Hollis's girlfriends. Sensing the sudden eruption of panic, I started stumbling around in search of my cousin, like she would just appear and everything would be okay. I remember shouting her name, but everything goes black after that; the next thing I know, I was on the hardwood floor of the bar, feeling shoes stomping on my body as people trampled over my drunk ass to flee the burning place. I suppose I had passed out from all the smoke and from being so drunk, too drunk to even know that I was probably going to die less than a half hour from then.

But my eyes opened. I don't know how or why I decided to open my eyes when I did, but I did. And I saw him. Staring down at me with those unearthly blue eyes, the rest of his face hidden underneath that god-awful burlap sack of a mask. The Scarecrow.

I was too drunk to realize how afraid I was--or should be, of him, so I closed my eyes again. Passed out again. Didn't feel him lifting me up bridal style and carrying me into that van. Didn't feel the vehicle coming to a halt, stopping near the bridge to The Narrows.

I don't know how it did, but his voice slipped into my ears in a soft coo, waking me from my stupor with ease. "Where do you live?"

I blinked a few times, sitting up as straight as I could in the passenger's seat, looking everywhere around myself until my gaze settled on him. I gasped when I saw that the mask was absent. The darkness shielded most of his face, so it didn't make much of a difference seeing him without it, but there was no way any shadow could block out those ridiculously hypnotic blue eyes. He blinked them, his long eyelashes batting against his cheeks, sending me straight back into my stupor.

"Where do you live, Miss Timore?"

How did he know my name? I guess my face gave away the question in my head, because he pulled my purse from under his seat, pulled out the clutch, and took my driver's license out of it.

"_Oh_--you--I--"

"I didn't have time to _Google_ your home address, so you'll have to navigate."

Whether this comment was sarcastic or not, I couldn't tell; my breathing was shallow and my heart was skipping beats as I stared blankly at him, feeling more totally nauseated than I had while stuck in the burning building. Questions upon questions started swimming around in my mind, overwhelming me in my still-drunken state. It was then that I realized that Hollis had been right about me being more than just a little tipsy.

And that was when I decided on the first question I'd ask. "Where's--Hollis?"

He arched an eyebrow.

"My--_Hollis_, my cousin--tall, skinny--blonde girl--?"

He bit on his bottom lip; his face darkened in the growing shadows. "Perhaps she's at home waiting for you."

I let out a long, drawn-out "yeah!" and settled into my seat, suppressing my urge to vomit by focusing my thoughts on Hollis. He was probably right; she was probably sitting right at home waiting for me. I drawled out directions and fell in and out of sleep as he drove me home.

---

I saw white when I opened my eyes. _Odd_, I thought to myself, _my ceiling isn't white_. What was this room? I sat up; realizing that I'd been in a bed. How did I get _there_? And why wasn't it _my_ bed?

I looked about, seeing more and more white. My vision was slightly blurry and my head dizzied as I pushed the sheets off my legs. I felt the vomit rising up in my throat and panicked; looking around for my bathroom, but didn't find it. I stood up and felt my body shaking violently; glancing at the night table by my side and taking note of the teddy bear sitting under the lamp. I didn't have a teddy bear in my room, but Hollis did.

When it occurred to me that it was Hollis's room, I remembered that she had her own bathroom as well, so I darted for it. I collapsed on the tiled floor, hurling into the toilet as I wondered why I was in my cousin's room instead of my own. I threw up for a few excruciatingly painful minutes and picked myself up, examining my face in the mirror and thinking that I definitely needed a shower. I wiped my mouth with toilet paper and stumbled out of her bedroom and down the hall towards mine. Carelessly, I flung the door open, subjecting myself to a heart attack when I saw the man who saved me entangled in my sheets.

"_Lorraine_!" my cousin hissed, emerging from my bathroom.

"Hollis, what--what--"

"Shh, shut up, come here--" she whispered fiercely, seizing my wrist and pulling me into my bathroom.

"God, you smell like puke," she said to me as she shut the door, wrinkling her nose.

"I just threw up," I told her obviously, pulling my shirt off. "I'm getting in the shower."

I stepped behind the curtain and stripped myself of my garments, tossing them over the rail as Hollis started on a roll.

"He brought you here around one in the morning," she explained, squeaking. "You were drunk off your _ass_, Rain. The only reason I didn't slam the door in his face was because he had _you_ in his arms."

"Why would you do that?" I asked, squeezing shampoo in my palm and rubbing it into my dark, wet locks.

Hollis scoffed; I could tell she was wide-eyed and open-mouthed as she hissed, "Rainy, do you know who that _is_? He's--he's Jonathan _Crane_, that crazy _doctor_ who broke out of Arkham a few weeks ago! The _Scarecrow_!"

I rolled my eyes as I rinsed the vanilla shampoo out of my hair. "Yeah, so? He saved me, didn't he? You didn't have to let him _sleep_ here, genius--"

"He asked if I'd like a dose of that toxin instead," she grunted. "So yeah, I kinda _had_ to let him stay."

"So what's the big deal?"

"The _big deal_," Hollis began glumly, "is that we have a psychotic criminal _mastermind_ sleeping in your bed. Now what do you suppose we do about _that_?"

I sighed and scrubbed my limbs with body wash as I answered, "Wait til he leaves. Nothing else we _can_ do."

"Maybe you didn't hear me," Hollis started quietly, edging closer to the curtain, "but I _did_ say that he's a criminal, and you _did_ see him sleeping right there--aren't you even the slightest bit freaked out by that?"

I laughed, the suds vanishing from my body thanks to the water. I grabbed the towel that hung on the wall and started drying myself off. "Freaked out by a _scarecrow_? Come on Hollis, I thought you turned twenty-one, not twelve."

"Are you still drunk?" she squealed, eyeballing me as I stepped out of the shower in my towel, my head and face still wet. "I don't care if he dresses up like a _teddy bear_; he's still a psycho and I don't want him in my house!"

"So that's why he's sleeping in _my_ bed and I woke up in yours?" I asked smugly, wringing the water out of my hair.

Hollis glared at me underneath heavily made up eyes and scoffed. "Whatever Rain, _you_ can deal with it now--I have to go to work."

"Sourpuss," I said playfully, winking at her.

"I hope he scares the shit out of you with that god-awful mask, you ass," she snapped, flinging open the door to find the doctor standing in front of it, sleepy-eyed and half naked.

"Oh!"

"Oh _shit_--"

The doctor visibly swallowed and backed up from the door; he obviously hadn't expected to meet two women on the other side of it, especially not one wrapped only in a towel. Hollis's eyes darted back and forth between him and myself, then she scampered out of the room, leaving me standing awkwardly in front of the supposed criminal.

"Erm--"

"Uh--" was all I could mutter, clutching the fabric at my front. "I'll--I'll be out in a minute."

---

"I didn't think you'd still be here." I sat across from him at the small round table in the kitchen, eyeing him as I sipped coffee.

"I didn't expect to sleep for so long." Crane stirred the tea and kept his eyes locked on his steaming mug as he spoke. "I planned on leaving before either you or your cousin awoke."

"You weren't going to say goodbye?" I regretted asking as soon as I did. I sounded much like one of the bubble-headed teens from my class.

"I didn't think you'd care," he answered honestly, "having been drunk and all. I figured you wouldn't have remembered that I saved you."

"I would have," I insisted defensively, trying to bring his gaze up. "Eventually. I remembered as soon as I woke up that you brought me here."

He lifted his eyebrows and smirked slightly. Obviously he didn't believe that. I scoffed inwardly.

"Thank you," I offered, hoping that this phrase would draw his gaze.

It did.

He smirked more plainly, blinking those thick eyelashes as he muttered, "You're welcome."

I couldn't help the smile that stretched upon my lips as I breathed in through my nostrils and blinked back at him. However, remembering the questions that had been floating around my head from the night before caused it to fade as quickly as it came.

"You didn't have to do it, you know."

"I know."

A pause. I thought he'd explain himself, but my assumption was clearly wrong. I furrowed my brow in slight frustration and took another sip from my mug, watching as he did the same.

"If you're wondering why I did it," he said, after smacking his lips, "I cannot answer that."

"Why not?" I asked lightly, disappointed.

He drew in a breath and removed the glasses he'd been wearing. "Because. I don't have a reason."

I giggled slightly, placing my elbows on the table. "You just randomly rescued someone you didn't know from a building that you set on fire."

"That would appear to be the case, Miss Timore."

"I wouldn't expect a criminal to have the heart to do something like that," I joked, hoping he wouldn't be offended. The smug look on his face told me that he wasn't easily bothered.

"I'm certain that my heart has no say in the things I do."

"Really?" I inquired, interested. "So, you're not one to listen to your heart."

"I don't see why I would," he said back sensibly, "it doesn't speak to me."

"You're not very imaginative, are you?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't take it as an insult.

"You aren't very practical, are you?" he threw back, sipping his tea.

I blushed slightly and cursed at myself inwardly for it. I was never very easily embarrassed, because I never really cared what others thought of me, but somehow, I cared what _he_ thought, this criminal sitting across from me. I cared about what he thought a _lot._

"So what does your heart tell you?" he asked, his voice slow and soothing, like the honey mixed into his tea. "Since you apparently listen to yours."

I arched an eyebrow, unsure of whether he was making fun of me or attempting to psycho-analyze me. Probably both. Either way, I wanted to give him an impressive answer--or rather, one that would make me seem intelligent enough for his taste. I drummed my fingers along the sides of my mug as I mused.

"I guess," I started, feeling foolish, "it depends on what's going on."

"I see." He fixated his gaze on a spot on the wall as he sipped again. He set the mug down and put his glasses back on. "Is it telling you anything right now?"

He was definitely trying to psycho-analyze me. I felt a quiver in my spine as I shifted in my seat, grasping my mug as if I were grasping onto my dear life. I looked from his face to the table and chewed on my bottom lip as he stared on, awaiting an answer.

"It's--I'm--erm--"

He blinked once, very slowly, as if he knew I was losing myself in his eyes; as if he knew I was completely hypnotized by their sky-blue hue. I felt my breathing steadily becoming erratic as I found myself locked with his gaze.

"It's telling me," I started, my voice abnormally high, "that I want to see you again."

His chest rose and fell quickly and he then leaned over the table to say, "With or without the mask?"

---

A/N: "Timore" is an Italian word for fear, dread, awe, and fright.

This is an intended oneshot, but if reviewers want me to continue this, I gladly will.


	2. Outlaw Field

I guess I'm continuing!

Disclaimer: Batman and DC Comics and all things Nolanverse aren't mine, yadda yadda yadda.

---

I didn't see him again, with or without the mask. Not for a couple of weeks after that unexpected rescue. It shouldn't have mattered so much, not meeting him again, considering he was nothing but a deranged criminal as Hollis so kindly put it, but going so many days without crossing his path had caused an apparent change in me.

Even my students had made a point of it. Every day after that morning with Jonathan Crane, they would come into my office before class, asking if I was all right. If they could do something to help me. If I needed something to drink or eat. If I needed a hug. Something to make me feel better. I would always answer "No, no hun. I'm all right." I wasn't quite sure that anything was really wrong--or rather, that it was showing.

One Friday morning, before the first period bell rang, one of my favorite students peeped into my office. Stella, her name was. Stella Rodriguez. She pushed open the ajar door and came into the light, smiling at me with that endearing metal mouth of hers. She had a box of Dunkin Donuts in her hands and laid it on my desk.

"Ricky and I stopped there on the way to school this morning for breakfast," she said quickly, her brown eyes glinting. "I figured I'd save a couple for you, since you like the Boston Crème kind. Ricky hates it, so I didn't wanna waste."

I looked up from my computer and smiled warmly at the girl. She was, truthfully, one of the only reasons I still had hope for the future of America.

"That's very sweet of you, Stella, thanks," I told her, opening the box and reaching in for one of the pastries.

She grinned at me, satisfied, but then frowned, looking uncomfortable. "If--you don't mind me asking, Miss T, what's been going on lately?"

When I didn't answer right away (I _did_ have my mouth full of donuts), she went on, "It's just like--you seem really, really unhappy lately, and--I just want you to know, we're all here for you, in case you wanna talk."

I swallowed and gave a light laugh, nodding. "I know that. Thanks, honey. But really--I'm okay. I'm sorry if anything seems…off. I'm just going through a very weird…something. But I will let you all know if anything happens."

She smiled again, flashing her braces. "Okay. We just--yeah, we worry about you. You're our favorite teacher; we don't like seeing you sad."

With that, she swung her dark curtain of hair behind her and took her seat out in the classroom. I finished the donut and closed my laptop, wondering if they'd still feel that way about me after they found out I had taken an incurable liking to a criminal.

---

That same night, I was watching the news with Hollis, lazily shoving spoonfuls of ice cream into my mouth as we learned about this criminal on the rise; some guy who dressed in a purple suit and wore more makeup than my mother ever did.

"Ha," I started, pointing at the screen with my spoon, "Hollis. Look at _this_ clown."

My blonde cousin gave a shudder. "Ugh. The Joker--I can't stand that guy, he's so creepy!"

I shrugged and ate another spoonful. "I've seen creepier."

"He's a _murderer_, Rainy," she started, ignoring the roll of my eyes. "He slices people up with knives for fun! You can't get creepier than that! He's _psycho_!"

"Oh, I'm sure he's not a _psycho_," I said humorously, shifting in my seat.

"Are you _serious_, Lorraine?" Hollis gaped at me. "Of _course_ he's a psycho! How can you look at _that_--" she pointed to his grinning face on the screen-- "and _not_ call him a psycho!"

I shrugged. "Sure, he's a murderer, but it doesn't exactly mean he's crazy."

Hollis scoffed. "Anyone who blows up a high school and carves into the principal's face has _got_ to be crazy."

I shook my head. "Well, if I'm lucky, maybe he'll blow up mine next."

"_Lorraine_!" Hollis yelped, throwing a pillow at me while I giggled.

"Oh come on, I'm just playing," I assured her, dodging the cushions and getting up off the couch. I smirked one more time. "Kinda."

"I hope he does it while you're still inside," she said cattily, eyeing me as I exited the room. I giggled again and scampered off to my bedroom, where I planned on showering.

I opened my door and felt a breeze coming through, which was odd, since I never opened my windows. The crème-colored curtains fluttered as I peered over, the light of the setting sun catching my eyes and drawing them downward to my desk. It appeared as it normally did, with the lamp and the jewelry box, but there was something else between the two. I flicked the light on and walked over to find a sunflower there with a note underneath. My heart leapt as I reached for it, breathing in its scent as I took the note in my other hand. I set the flower down and sat lightly on my bed as I opened the small piece of paper.

**Outlaw Field. Tomorrow. Sunset. **

It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be. I grinned to myself expectantly as I folded it back and set it on the desk, guessing that I'd never been more excited for a Saturday night.

---

I had to resort to Google Earth in order to find Outlaw Field. Hollis had never heard of it and none of my colleagues at the school had either, so I was beginning to wonder if it actually existed. It didn't occur to me til that Saturday morning that it could have been a code name for some other place, but luckily when I typed it into the mapping engine, it flashed up on the screen. Judging by the map that Google gave me, it was a ways out there--near the Narrows, about a half hour away from my house. I ate an early dinner by myself and left at six--I supposed the sun would be going down soon after.

The drive there was longer than I imagined--or it just felt as such, because I was so anxious to get there. To see him. For the whole journey, my mind raced as I wondered why he wanted to meet me--and why it had to be there, out in the middle of nowhere. Of course, I knew he was on the run from the police, so meeting in out in public would be risky, but really--why couldn't he just come to my house at night? Or was he wary of Hollis, thinking that she'd report him? Wasn't there some bar or low-key place in the slums that he could have met me at? More importantly, what was it that he wanted to do or say, once I found him?

Actually, I asked myself as I passed a sign that told me I was entering Outlaw Field, _how_ was I going to find him in this giant maze of a cornfield?

I parked about a mile away from the sign and got out of my Jetta, gazing around myself as I looked for some sort of sign of where Crane might be. I didn't know what to look for as my eyes wandered around, taking note of the pinks and purples streaking across the sky as the sun was bidding farewell. Surely there had to be some indication of his location in this mess. Before I could start debating with myself on whether or not to just simply dive into the maze and search blindly, an obnoxious squawking came from behind me. About fifty feet straightforward into the corn stalks, a couple of crows were hovering about an extremely tall stick. Crane's mask sat atop it.

I lunged forward, figuring there was really no hurry, but I had anticipated seeing him for so long that I just couldn't help myself. I got to his spot as fast as my legs could carry and found him leaning against the stick, apprehensively peering up at the noisy birds above him. It wasn't until I spoke that he became aware of my presence.

"Doc--Doctor Crane?" once again, my voice was abnormally high.

He met my gaze with those piercing glacier blue eyes, smiling ever so slightly as I neared him. "I knew you'd come eventually."

"Have I kept you waiting long?" I asked nervously, feeling my legs taking me closer to him.

He shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off me. I felt as if something hot were sliding down my chest as he answered, "Not long."

I blinked a few times, noticing that I was still breathing heavily from running to the spot. My eyebrows knitted together as I asked, "Why--why did you want me to come here?"

"There is something I need to discuss with you, Lorraine," he began, wringing his hands together.

I raised my eyebrows expectantly, feeling my throat going dry.

"But first, I must ask that you don't get offended."

"I--I won't," I said warily. "Offended by--what?"

"By the assumption that I'm going to make."

I swallowed as I straightened my posture. "What assumption would that be?"

"That you have a sort of--" he paused, exhaling heavily as he removed his glasses. "--attraction to me."

My heart raced as I felt the color rising drastically in my cheeks. "I--I--"

"If you aren't, then I apologize for having wasted your time--and your gas--with this meeting."

"No, no," I started, my hands shaking. "No, you're right…I…"

He looked at me interestedly, as if he were watching a magician about to perform a trick. I had trouble looking at his face and I ran a hand through my hair and muttered, "I…"

Why was it so hard to admit? I was behaving like one of my high schoolers, stumbling over my words and blushing ridiculously.

"So you do," he finished for me gently.

I lifted my gaze, feeling only slightly more at ease. "Yes. I do. I don't know why--but I do."

He sighed lightly. "I was hoping you didn't."

I furrowed my brow, swallowing hard. I didn't have to ask why. In the back of my mind, I knew why, I just wanted him to explain. So I appeared confused on purpose. Just to hear him talk more. Chances were, I wouldn't get to very often at all after that.

"I'm certain that I don't have to explain myself in full detail, Miss Timore," he began in a professional voice. "You know what I am and what I am capable of. I wanted to tell you--just in case you had any…_ideas,_ there is no way anything can happen between us."

I bit my lip, feeling water coming into my eyes.

"I've already told you that I can't give you a reason as to why I saved you that night. I don't know what came over me. But I can tell you that the act of mercy will be in vain if you should try to…get involved with me."

The tears were coming and I couldn't stop them. They rolled silently down my paling face as he went on.

"This is for your own well-being," he told me honestly, retrieving the mask from atop the stick. The crows cawed once more and flew away. He turned the burlap sack over in his hands. "You will be in danger--all the time, if anything were to come of this."

"Does--does this mean I can't ever see you again?" I asked pitifully, my throat straining.

He inched forward, his glare stabbing at me like daggers. "Do you want to die anytime very soon, Miss Timore?"

I widened my eyes and shook my head as his features sharpened.

"It wouldn't be by my hand, necessarily, but surely, it would be my fault."

"I don't know what you mean," I practically squeaked.

He licked his lips and looked about, then settled his gaze back on me. "It's better that you don't know."

I frowned up at him, a million thoughts swimming through my head as I let one flood out. "I don't care."

He looked at me quizzically and I answered, "I don't care what happens to me. I don't know why, but I want to see you. All the time. I--I've never felt this way about anybody, and--and whatever risk there is, I want to take it."

His eyes fell on the sack in his hands. Glancing back up at me, he took my own hand and pulled it towards him, making me touch the mask.

"Do you want to know the risk?"

---

A/N: Yeah, Lorraine drives a Volkswagen Jetta. I personally really like that car for some odd reason, so I gave it to her.

I hope I'm doing Jonathan justice and entertaining you. Thanks for reading and reviewing if you choose to do so!


	3. Stay Away

Thanks for all the reviews, loves. Hope you'll enjoy it some more as it goes on.

Disclaimer: Batman and DC Comics and all things Nolanverse aren't mine, yadda yadda yadda.

---

_Every time we choose safety, we reinforce fear._

_-- Cheri Huber_

It all happened so fast. One minute I was staring blankly at Crane, and the next I was surrounded by about a hundred bloodied corpses, closing in on me from all sides. Hundreds of terrifying, rotting faces, screaming and clawing around me as I yelled for help, yelled for Hollis, for my mother, even for Crane himself; they disappeared suddenly, and all went white. The corpses disappeared as quickly as they came and I awoke on a table; a gentle firelight illuminating the face of the doctor hovering over me, smiling smugly.

"What--what was that?" I demanded, sitting up, but dizzied and practically fell back down. His hand was behind my head before it hit the table.

"The risk."

I couldn't understand what he was referring to at first, but then I remembered our conversation in the cornfield. The whole reason why I had been there with him in the first place.

"So I have to fight an army of zombies to prove myself worthy of you or something?" I joked, closing my eyes. My vision had been slightly blurry and my head was spinning.

He gave a delicate chuckle and told me, "No. That was a hallucination."

My eyes opened slowly. "Ha--what?" I asked, holding a hand to my forehead.

"I gave you a very small dose of the toxin," he said plainly. "It induces the victim's worst fears--makes you see horrible things that aren't really there. From what you said, I suppose yours is--zombies?"

I laughed hollowly. "Blood and gore, actually. I guess seeing them was more effective than seeing a bathtub full of blood or a dismembered body."

He smirked again. I couldn't tell then if he found me genuinely funny or just amusingly simple-minded.

"But--I don't get it," I admitted, sitting up very slowly. His hand was no longer touching me. "Why did you--"

"To show you," he cut me off, "that being with me would mean that you'd have to face your deepest fears."

"So I'd have to be the guinea pig for your fear experiments in return for the sex, if we were in a relationship?" I asked, joking again.

Crane's face flushed terribly as he cleared his throat. "_No_, it means that there are dangers that would come with being in a relationship with me, and you'd be exposed to many of them. Most of which would be my fault, since I'd be the reason you should get into any sort of--trouble."

"And blood and gore would be one of the dangers?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. So did he.

"Depending on whose toes you step on."

I lowered my eyelids. "I'd be stepping on toes if I were with you?"

"The possibilities can't be denied."

"So…"

He sighed impatiently and removed his glasses, stuffed them into his pocket and rested his hands on the table on either side of me.

"Lorraine, listen to me…My life--is not one for you. You have a definite future; I do not. If you should get caught up in this--_mess_ with me, everything of yours would surely be ruined. I do not wish that for you. I want you to be safe…to be happy."

"I'd be happy if I could be with you," I started feebly, then added, "Jonathan."

There was a distinct flash in his eyes when his name fell from my lips. He exhaled disdainfully. "As much as you will disagree with me now, you cannot be happy with me, Lorraine. You won't, a while from now, if anything were to happen."

Dejectedly, I gave a disgruntled sigh, ignoring my shaking knees and numbing fingers. He was still leaning against the table with his arms at my sides. I bit hard at my lip, waiting for further explanations and figuring out in my head what I could say to change his mind, however unlikely the chances he would were.

"Lorraine," he started again, looking me hard in the face, "I can't--you can't see me again. Not ever. You have too much at stake. I can't let you get involved."

I felt my heart drop to my stomach as I muttered, "How--how can you just decide that for me? Why do you want to--"

"Trust me," he told me, arching his back. "It is better if we never cross paths again."

"Why didn't you just let me die that night, then?" I asked immediately, angrily. I felt hot tears brimming in my eyes, but I didn't dare let them fall. "Why did you have to save me?"

He didn't look startled by this question at all, which angered me more until I remembered that he _was_ a psychiatrist, and had probably heard very many outbursts like this. "Lorraine…"

"It'd be just as awful for you to leave me now if you would have left me then!" I argued further.

"It'd also be in _vain _if you were to--"

"I don't care," I told him again impatiently, smiling through my sniffles. "I told you. I don't care."

"Lorraine," he began sternly, "I saved you because I didn't want you to get hurt…And you never _will_ get hurt because of me if I can help it. Please…"

Then the tears started falling, one by one. I couldn't stop them.

"It's better if you stay away."

He let go of the edge of the table and backed up. He looked at his watch, then up towards the ceiling, then back at me and said, "I have to go. Please--don't ever come looking for me."

I pounced off the table and strode up to him.

"This is the last time you must ever see me," he said plainly. For a moment, I saw something in his eyes; the same look I got whenever a student of mine didn't get the part in a play that they wanted, or couldn't quite perform the scene just right. The look of utter loss and defeat.

I blinked, my breathing erratic, trying to think of something to say before he left, but he turned away. Lifted the mask in his hands and headed for the barn door. As his fingers touched to the handle, I choked out a word.

"Wait," I felt myself say. As to what I wanted him to wait for, I didn't quite know yet. Or rather, I didn't know if I yet had the courage to do what I wanted.

He didn't say anything, just lowered the mask at his side and let go of the handle. The light of the rising moon coming in from the window made his eyes gleam.

"Did you--are you--do you feel the same way? About me too?"

Crane seemed befuddled at first, cocking his head to the side and peering downward, but his eyes shot back up to me, a different look in them that time. Something about the moonlight flooding inside sharpened his features as he strutted towards me, making him seem less human, yet even more impossibly beautiful. I didn't know what to expect when he stopped rigidly in front of me, but I got the message when he lightly touched his hand to my chin.

My eyes closed as I waited for it. I knew it was coming. I wasn't very experienced for a "pretty" woman my age, but enough so that I knew when I was about to be kissed. I felt his hand drop to my collarbone and rose mine up to tangle with his dark hair, as dark as mine. I felt a melting sensation in my chest as my lips became enveloped in his; my hips sinking into his as my tongue darted into his mouth. He lowered his other hand to the small of my back, pulling me closer, tightening our embrace as I explored his mouth, engraving his taste on my tongue. My hands traveled downward to his neck, scratching at the sides of it as his lips washed over mine again and again; the sensation and taste and connection were bringing my euphoria to a climactic state. A small moan escaped his throat as I bit lightly on his bottom lip; my temperature shot up and I felt that I was about to lose all self-control and rip his clothes off just as he pulled away abruptly, as if we were a couple of my students caught making out in a broom closet by one of the teachers. I forgot to breath as I met his face; his features had softened and his eyes were no longer shining.

"Yes."

I didn't know whether to smile or to start crying again, so I felt my mouth twist as I nodded my head and wrung my hands together, savoring the feel of his skin against mine. My heart slowed as my eyes followed him out of the barn door and out of my life for what would feel like forever afterward.

---

A/N: Forgive the sappy cheese wiz of this chapter.

Just in case you thought so, no, it doesn't end here :]


	4. A Bad Idea

I'm sorry to say that this will be another relatively boring chapter :[ I hope you get as much out of it as you can and will sit tight until the excitement gets here--it's getting here soon, promise, with special appearances :] Happy reading, you crazies.

Disclaimer: Honestly, who reads these disclaimers? You all must know Batman isn't mine--cuz if it was, I wouldn't need to be on , would I?

_---_

_Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat._

I saw him many times after our encounter in Outlaw Field. In my dreams, that is. Almost every night after that meeting, I saw him after I'd drifted into sleep. On that account, sleeping had become my favorite pastime, and I did much of it. It had gotten to a point where if I wasn't at the high school, teaching, I was at home, asleep. If the only way to be with Jonathan was in my dreams, then I was determined to sleep for the rest of all time.

I slept so much that I was totally oblivious to what was going in the city around me, like Harvey Dent, the new DA, sweeping the streets clean of all those criminals at once; the Joker murdering Commissioner Loeb and several other innocents; the death of Rachel Dawes. I wasn't even aware that the Scarecrow had escaped from Arkham Asylum again until one of my students mentioned it before class one day. Actually, I didn't even know that he'd been sent back…

It wasn't until Hollis's car accident that I really woke up. It happened the same day Miss Dawes died; she was driving home from work when some maniac collided with her. Her Passat was completely ruined, but I didn't care about the car--she was in a critical condition. So critical that they had her on life support at the hospital; severe brain damage. There was nothing that they could do for her. She was only alive because that machine allowed her to be.

Whether it was a day or a week later that the Joker destroyed the hospital, I don't remember. All I remember was the ultimatum he gave Gotham on the news: either Coleman Reese got killed, or Gotham General was going to explode. Well, Reese lived, but everyone managed to get out of the hospital safely before the Joker blew it to smithereens--everyone including my poor cousin. They couldn't get her out unless they pulled the plug on her. She died before they even got her on one of the buses.

My cousin, Hollis, the only person left in the world that I knew loved me, the only piece of flesh and blood that I had left of my beloved father, died. Alone. Despite the hundreds of people around her.

I called the school and told them I needed some time off. They gladly let me have it. I made arrangements for a funeral. I called Hollis's boyfriend and my Uncle Steve. All of her friends that I found the numbers to in her phone. I told them all the news, listening to all of them cry and telling them it was okay (it wasn't). I cleaned her room and put every one of her belongings in boxes, except for the few things I wanted to keep. I took the teddy bear off of her dresser and laid it in my bed. I slept with it that night as I had the TV on, set to Grey's Anatomy, her favorite show. I pretended she was watching it in the living room.

We held the funeral a few days later. During those few days, Harvey Dent had died. No one was sure how or why. The Batman was on the run. Everyone said that _he_ killed those people (I didn't believe that). And they tried putting the Joker in Arkham, but couldn't hold him. He escaped within twelve hours. No one was really surprised.

A lot of people showed up to say their last goodbyes to my cousin--most of them being her friends, but a few of my colleagues showed up to give me moral support: my fellow teachers in the arts department. Mr. Silvers, the other theater teacher, the choir and band directors Miss Newman and Mr. Church, and Mr. Skye, the visual arts teacher. All of them older; all of them having been to several funerals. None of them knew that before this one, the only other funeral I had attended was my own father's.

I didn't give a speech inside the church; I didn't want to. I didn't want to talk to all these people, most of which I didn't particularly care for, especially the majority of Hollis's friends. There was one girl, however, named Sara, that I liked a lot; the only one in the group that was able to handle a funeral sober and the one that Hollis was closest to. She talked at the altar. She said beautiful, wonderful things about my cousin; things I didn't know before, or that I did, and I had just forgotten. I stopped paying attention to most of what Sara said after she mentioned the Joker being responsible for Hollis's death and the deaths of so many others. I gazed out one of the windows and wondered if that clown had ever felt any kind of remorse for the things he'd done.

I had trouble looking at her body in the casket. She was a gorgeous woman, even in death. Her blonde hair was still shiny, fair skin was still clear and pretty, lips still full and pink, hands still clean and soft, but she was cold. So very cold. How strange for a person who had been so warm-hearted.

As I leaned over to give her one last look, I wished I could have looked in her eyes again, one last time. Before she'd be six feet under the ground. Her blue eyes had been the most beautiful I'd ever seen--well, second. Only to Jonathan.

I only went to the dinner afterward because my uncle insisted.

"I've gotta talk to you about something," he said sternly as he walked me to my car.

I said all right, noticing then that I had barely spoken a word in days.

I was on auto-pilot for most of the dinner. I indulged in the lasagna and the pastries, sitting quietly at the corner of one of the longer tables and nodding my head along with whatever Mr. Silvers was saying. Something about getting a substitute for me while I took my time recouping. I snapped out of my trance long enough to tell them that it was going to take quite a while for me to do that. He smiled sympathetically at me and patted my shoulder and I wished I could have smiled back. He was such a good man; I'd have been lost in my department without his help.

Uncle Steve wandered over to my table several minutes later.

"Can I steal my niece for a bit?" he asked charmingly, patting his beer belly.

Mr. Silvers nodded and helped me out of my chair and I followed my uncle to the other side of the room. He picked out a small table for two and pulled out my chair for me. He rested his elbows on the edge and looked at me with his dark orbs for eyes, reminding me hauntingly of my mother.

He even sounded like her when he spoke. "Rainy…first of all, I'm real sorry about Hollis."

"I know," I muttered quickly, but he went on with the condolences, making it even more painful.

"I know she was all you had left of your dad, and I still say to this day, your dad and his brother were good guys--and Hollis was just like her daddy--"

"I know she was."

"When your Uncle Fred died, and your dad took her in--"

"I know, Steve."

"--sweetest thing I ever seen anybody do. I mean, sure, it were his twin brother's only kid, so of course he took her in, but still--"

"I know, Uncle Steve," I said hotly, finally looking up at him. I wanted to cry again, but my eyes felt too dry for any more tears.

He looked at me somberly, extending his hand over the table and I let him take mine, feeling my mother's as he touched me.

"I sure am sorry, honey bunny."

I merely nodded. There was nothing to say, except for maybe the predictable "it's okay," but it wasn't okay, so I didn't say it. I figured I'd done enough lying.

"I'm especially sorry that I have to bring something up on you now, of all times."

I furrowed my brow, still clutching his hand. He didn't pull away as he trod on a new subject.

"Listen, I uh, I'm going on this trip in a couple o' days," he started guiltily, scratching at his thick neck with his free hand. "I'mma need some help over at the house. I'd ask Dora to do it, but she's uh--coming with me."

I rolled my eyes, wanting to smirk, but couldn't pull the muscles in my face to do it.

"So would you do me a big--big favor," he began, "and look after the horses while I'm gone? I know it's your time off, and I hate to ask, but there's--there's really nobody else…and the horses, they like you, and you can ride 'em around if ya want--"

"Sure, Uncle Steve," I told him, smiling as much as I could. "Of course I'll do it."

"Ya sure, honey bunny?" he asked, concerned, although his eyes got brighter. "I'll pay ya if ya feel that--"

"No, it's okay, you're family," I said, and realizing out loud, "the only--family I've really got left now. Don't worry about it."

"But--aw, honey, I want to--"

"I know, but it's fine. Really..."

"Ya totally sure about this? It's a whole two weeks I'll be gone--"

"It's fine," I said again. "It'll be good to get out there…"

"I still got the Internet up there, and the cable works good," he added. It was nice of him to remember how much time I spent online. "And I still got the dogs, so they'll keep ya safe, if you get worried."

I tried smiling again. "Thanks. I'll be fine. I really don't mind doing this for you."

He grinned madly and patted my head, tousling my hair.

"Thanks, sweetie. I really appreciate it--man…after all this time, I still can't get over how much you look like your mama."

I felt the color drain in my face as his hand left my locks. Noticing, he winked at me.

"But--you got your daddy's eyes."

I grinned genuinely for the first time in about a week and patted my uncle's hand. "Yeah…"

"Miss him, honey bunny?"

My eyes fell to the table.

"Yeah…Great man, he was…just--just make sure you make him happy up there with Jesus and all by keeping a look out for yourself, huh?"

I met his gaze and wrung my hands in my lap. "I am. I'm fine." God, I was so sick of that word.

"Really though, with all these maniacs running around Gotham," he started sternly, waving a finger at me, "you gotta be real careful. Okay? The only funeral I wanna go to after this one is my own. I don't wanna see your pretty face all cold and stony in a box, honey bunny."

Annoyed as I was by his overprotective nature, I couldn't help but giggle slightly at his humor.

"I mean it now, Rainy," he continued, chuckling at himself, but added seriously, "I really do mean it. Stay safe and keep yourself outta trouble. Stay away from them crazies--especially that _clown_--I don't wanna know what'd happen to ya if he got his hands on ya somehow, so watch ya step. Don't go looking for trouble, honey."

"I'll be fine," I told him honestly.

"Be careful who you mess with now, honey," he continued. "Ya never know who's tied with who these days…Ya--ya can meet someone great and then find out they're tangled up in some--crazy mess with somebody like that Joker. Never know who he's gonna pick on next. I wouldn't be surprised if he's got all the criminals in Gotham on his side…"

I swallowed hard, giving that idea so much thought that I didn't hear him plead with me again.

"You listenin' to me, Rain?"

"I'm sorry?" I snapped out of it quickly.

"I'm sayin'--be careful who you talk to. Watch what people do. Something looks funny--don't get caught up in it. Get it?"

"Of course I get it," I said, making sure I looked stern.

"I hope so," he said, leaning back in the chair. "I really hope ya do…"

"I'm a grown woman, Uncle Steve," I told him confidently. "I know how to take care of myself."

"You better." He winked again as he rose up from his seat. "Well--I'mma head on home and pack my things--you can drop by tomorrow at the earliest, but I should be gone by then. Horses won't really need tending to til the day after, so--"

"Yeah, okay," I said, also getting up. "I'll see you when you get back, then?"

"O' course," he said, pecking the top of my head. "Take care, honey bunny!"

I shook my head at his overuse of my childhood nickname and watched him take his leave, considering all that he'd said.

---

He told me not to come looking for him. Ever. Whether or not he knew I wouldn't listen, I don't know. But Jonathan was a smart man--probably smart enough to know that most women won't change their minds, and that I had my mind made up even before he told me not to go after him, so I did. It's not like I promised I wouldn't, anyway.

A very distinct, gut feeling pierced me after talking with my uncle, a feeling about the Joker. _Wouldn't be surprised if he's got all the criminals in Gotham on his side_…My uncle's words echoed in my brain the entire ride back home. It made sense, perfect sense…The Joker and Jonathan both had their ties to the mob, so didn't that make them tied to one another? They could probably even be working together--at least, they would both be aware of what the other one was doing. I was sure _all_ of Gotham's most wanted had _some _ideas of what the others were up to, so that they wouldn't get in each other's ways. Yes, it had made plenty of sense…

Going to find him probably wasn't the brightest of ideas, but I was one to follow my heart, and oddly enough, my heart was leading me to the Joker.

I took my Jetta home. I parked it in the driveway and went inside only to drop off my purse and hat and to grab an umbrella. I had a feeling it was going to start raining soon. I unlocked the window to my bedroom so that I would get back inside later--I didn't want to risk taking my keys with me when meeting the clown--and climbed out of it, landing after jumping only about three feet. Thank God my room was on the ground floor. I walked across my yard, cursing myself for keeping the heels on as they trudged through the dampening grass. I opened my umbrella after hearing the thunder clap above my head. I scurried over to the gate, tossed my umbrella over, and climbed over it, stumbling as I touched ground. I walked further and reached the alley, trying to remember which way led to the abandoned toy factory.

---

A/N: Fun fact: Lorraine's uncle (Hollis's father) being named Fred and being Lorraine's father's twin is totally homage to Fred and George in the Harry Potter series. Wasn't sure how obvious that was and thought I'd point it out.

"Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat" translates into "fortune favors the brave." I'm sure you'll see why that phrase would apply in time, if you haven't already. :]


	5. Caught

Damn, that was a while. Sorry to keep you all waiting. I thought I was gonna come back right after I finished school, but I had a lot to do between then and now. I'm enjoying seeing my mom in Florida now, but I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to write. I'm very siked to be back and I hope you guys are ready to get back into this! Happy reading, crazies.

Disclaimer: I wouldn't need to submit anything to this site if all things Batman were mine :]

---

As I trudged a mile in the rain, grasping tightly to my umbrella and looking fervently for the ragged sign that read _KB Toys_ among the buildings in my path, I thought to myself--_what am I even going to _do_ once I find him?_ I was enough of an idiot for pursuing the _Joker_, of all people, but it'd be plain _stupid_ of me to waltz inside his possible hiding place just to ask where the Scarecrow was. If he didn't know, I'd feel even stupider. But if he did, would he even tell me? And what if they really _were_ working together--or worse, what if he was holding him against his will? As a hostage? What would I do then?

I was willing to fight for Jonathan, no questions asked, but I surely wouldn't last very long. I was barely five-foot four with no experience in real fighting--if it came down to it, the Joker would certainly tear me limb from limb with ease. Granted, he wasn't much threat without some sort of weapon (I'd heard he was very clumsy and uncoordinated), but neither was the fragile Scarecrow. Both of us would probably go down quickly if it got physical.

However, the more optimistic side of me told me that I could probably get away without a scratch, if I played my cards right. If I got on his good side, somehow, in some way. I was contemplating how to do so as I discovered the factory and stared up at its cracked banner. The _B_ in _KB Toys _had faded, and the right side of the sign was hanging off its hinges, swinging back and forth in the wind as lightning struck in the sky overhead. I pulled the collar of my coat tighter around my neck as I strode up to the side of the building, scoping out any watchers--or possible henchmen. I was sure that he had plenty of people working for him, despite how "crazy" he was. Personally, I never thought he was crazy at all--just dangerous. The _real _crazy ones were the guys doing business with him.

When I was sure that no one was watching me, I pushed open a white "Employees Only" door and closed my umbrella, ignoring the goose pimples on my arms as it creaked shut. The walls ahead of me were surprisingly white, which was weird for what appeared to be the pathway to a basement. I walked slowly with my umbrella at my shoulder, ready to strike in case anything came at me, but it appeared that I was totally alone--in that particular area of the factory, at least. I trekked my way down the narrow hallway until I reached an opening that revealed a large, round room. It was slightly darker in there.

Cautiously I entered, scanning the space around me earnestly, and when I convinced myself that no one was in there, I walked briskly toward a large table and set my umbrella down. I looked up at the ceiling, which I noticed was painted a midnight blue with white and silvery spots for stars. I smiled slightly, appreciating the dreamlike feel as I took better note of my surroundings.

There were massive boxes lining the walls--presumably storing old toys--and every few feet, a large stack of reject stuffed animals lay still, void eyes fixated on my figure. One colossal teddy bear--sitting at what I perceived to be at least seven feet--had a particularly disconcerting aura about him, like he was some mind-controlled robot that could rise and zap me with laser guns at any given moment. I made my way to the opposite side of the room, eyeing him suspiciously, just in case I turned out to be right. I told myself I was being too paranoid, but I spoke too soon when a foreign voice crashed into my ears.

"HEY--"

With a gasp, I bolted, ignoring the second scream directed at me. I darted off towards the gigantic bear that I was previously afraid of and hid behind its leg. There was more hollering as more men entered the room. Footsteps clamored around the table and the voices lowered. I heard someone pick up my umbrella.

"This yours?" one guy asked.

"Nope, I guess the girl musta brought it in here," the first one told him.

"A _girl_ broke in here?"

"_Only_ an umbrella?" a third man inquired off-handedly. He was the only one still walking about. "Nothin' else? No purse or nuttin'?"

"Nope, just that."

There was a loud click and I inhaled sharply. This third guy was readying a gun…

"That ain't normal for a lady to be going somewhere without her purse…"

"Yeah, weird. Should we tell boss?"

"I dunno if we should be buggin' him with this," the first guy said apprehensively.

"Go tell him anyway, just in case," the most confident henchman said. Hurried footsteps told me one of them had run off.

"Mickey, what're ya--"

_Bam_. Mickey shot at the wall near me, making me jump in my hiding spot, but I didn't peep out. He couldn't see me. I sank further down to the floor just to be safe.

"Mickey, why'd you--"

"Shut up, Terry. The girl's still in here."

"But why are you trying to--"

"I'm not gonna shoot her, you clown, just scare her a little so she'll come out and play--"

"I don't think we should--"

"Will you put a sock in it?!" Mickey yelled menacingly. "I gotta find her. Gotta be a reason she's in here."

"Why would a civilian lady come in _here_ of all places?" Terry asked inanely.

"Probably looking to talk to the boss."

"How ya figure _that_?"

Mickey took a few steps further, towards the big bear. Another click of the gun. "Because--she was smart enough to leave her purse at home."

_Bam_. He shot the bear's leg and I couldn't help the scream I let escape from my throat.

---

"Pretty, ain't she?"

"She sure is--"

"Shut up, she ain't that cute."

"…Well, yeah, her thighs are kinda big, and her boobs are little--"

"Despite. She's not cute."

"Scarecrow give you an extra dose of those drugs, Mickey?"

"Yeah, how come you don't think she's cute?"

"She ain't nuttin' I never seen before."

"Well, _I_ think she's pretty…can I--"

"No."

"But what if--"

"Don't even, Louie. We're just gonna leave her in here. Doctor'll take care of her."

The voices were piercing through my ears, getting louder with each spoken sentence. They were sharp and harsh, and I felt strangely cold. I moved my arms slightly and it felt hard beneath me; I realized that I was lying down. How I came to this position, I didn't know; I didn't know anything about what happened after I heard that gunshot…I felt my eyelids flutter, but I was afraid to let them open. I didn't want to look at what surrounded me, just in case. I rolled my head around, breathing slightly heavier, and the henchman named Terry gasped.

"She's waking up, look! Guys--look, she's--"

"Shut up, let's get outta here," Mickey said apprehensively. My eyes slowly opened and I saw him hovering over me, looking about himself worriedly.

His gun clicked and I barely saw the three of them scurry off towards a faint light to my right. I opened my eyes fully, looking about warily, suddenly very frightened. Where did they take me? Why was I lying down? What was I lying _on_?

I tried sitting up, but I was strapped down. My hands and legs were free, but I was tied to this table around my waist. I rested back on my elbows and looked about, but I couldn't see much. It was relatively dark; the only light was coming from a door to my right.

"What is this?" I asked myself aloud, glancing about.

"Lorraine?"

I gasped, jerking around under the strap.

"Lorraine, tell me that's not you…"

My heart did a back flip as I looked frantically about, searching for the source of the voice. "Jonathan? Jonathan, is that you?"

"Oh dear _God_, Lorraine…"

I couldn't help the smile that exploded on my face. Warmth spread throughout my body as I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, Jonathan, thank God, it _is_ you…"

"Don't thank Him just yet," he droned, obviously disappointed in me. "What on _earth_ are you doing here? I distinctly remember telling you not to come after me…"

"And you really thought I'd listen?" I said wittily, hoping to lighten his mood. It didn't quite work.

"I told you that you'd come into danger if you got involved, and look at what you've tangled yourself into."

"I wouldn't call this danger, exactly," I admitted, still keeping my humor. "I'm still in one piece, aren't I?"

"You won't be if the Joker gets to you," he told me smugly. I could hear the smirk in his voice and it made me grin helplessly.

"Well, aren't you gonna prevent that from happening?" I teased flirtatiously, wriggling under the strap.

A frustrated sigh from his end. "I suppose I'm fairly certain that I don't want any harm to come to you…"

"So you'll help me outta this?" I said eagerly, still fidgeting on the table, but before he answered, I added, "What _is_ this place, anyway?"

Out of seemingly nowhere, a light flickered on, revealing the small room I was in. Jonathan emerged from a dark corner, dressed in a regular dress shirt and pants, but with a white lab coat about his shoulders. He polished his glasses on his sleeve and pushed them back on as he approached me.

"The Joker so kindly gave me this space for my work," he began, folding his hands in front of him, speaking professionally. "I run tests in here, and behind this door here"--he gestured behind him, "I do research and formulate the toxins."

"So you're--working for him?" I asked shakily, my stomach dropping.

He gave a little laugh. "I would describe my affiliation with him as more of a reluctant partnership."

Confused, I arched an eyebrow.

"He needs a new toy to play with, and I need money."

"So you're playing chemistry lab with him and he's paying you for it?"

"Yes."

I furrowed my brow. "You're…giving him another weapon to hurt people with?"

"He is, in turn, giving me more to experiment with," he said rationally.

"Experiment?" I asked. "What are you trying to make?"

He exhaled deeply and rolled his eyes. "Lorraine, I believe this discussion is irrelevant at this moment. Do you really want a science lesson right now, or would you rather devise a plan to get you out of here?"

I twisted my mouth. "Considering I came here to figure out why _you_ might be here, I'd like to know the reason at _some_ point."

"That point won't come any time soon, if at all," he told me, bending down to my eye level. He ran his hands along the sides of the table, apparently searching for something to switch or turn to release me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, raising my voice a little.

"I am going to get you out of here, and you are never going to come looking for me again," he explained plainly, wrapping his hands around the belt. My heart jolted at his touch on my waist, but my temper flared despite.

"Oh no," I started, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach as his hands fiddled with the strap. "The sole reason why I came here was to find you and get you out!"

He sighed impatiently, bending down again. He picked something up off the floor as he said, "Lorraine...I regret to inform you that I won't be going anywhere…"

He lifted a key and examined it in the light, gripping my strap again.

"Oh yes you will be," I told him sternly, unable to sound very angry due to his hands on my waist again. He seemed to notice I was weak to his touch, because he prolonged unlocking the latch. "There is no way I'm leaving you here with that--that clown."

"You fail to understand, Lorraine," he started, tapping the latch with the key, "I made a deal with him. A deal I simply cannot afford to break, do you understand?"

"A deal you can't afford to _keep_ either, not when it comes to the Joker," I told him defiantly, my face growing hot.

"You don't know the Joker."

"I know enough," I argued.

Jonathan's hands roamed about my stomach as he breathed in deeply, eyeing me severely.

"Lorraine, I told you that I can't let you get involved. I don't want you to be in danger, and right now--you're pushing it."

I licked my lips, staring back at him just as intensely as his hands wandered up to my ribcage, holding me tightly in place. My heart thudded as he drew closer to my face.

"I can help you this time, but if you dare make another stupid move, I cannot say that I'll be able to come to your rescue."

I couldn't think of a word to say. I was fixated on his gaze, biting at my lip in frustration and anticipation, feeling the blood pool in my groin as he moved his hands from my ribs to my waist. He unlocked the latch, throwing the strap over the table, freeing me.

I sat up and breathed heavily, half from being slightly turned on and half from being so confused and upset. "Jonathan…"

"Lorraine, don't start," he warned, hardened. "Follow me."

He extended his hand, which startled me at first, but I grasped it anyway. I grasped the opportunity to touch him; Heaven knew whether or not it'd be the last time I'd be able to.

He guided me over to the dark corner he emerged from and opened a small door, revealing a brighter, larger room. There was a large window on the ceiling from which I could see the grey, cloudy sky. It hadn't stopped storming.

"You can reach the window if you stand on the table," he told me, pushing an unoccupied table towards me. "The latch doesn't lock, so just push it open."

I looked up for a moment but then back at him dolefully. "Jonathan…"

"Lorraine, don't."

"Jonathan, please…"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

I felt no tears forming behind my eyes, just a large knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat. He truly _looked_ sorry; eyes darkened, face paling, his hands folded neatly in front of him. His mouth was in a straight line and I watched his throat slide as he swallowed hard. He extended his hand again and I took it, clutching it like my life depended on it.

He placed his other hand on the small of my back and lightly pushed me towards the table. I glanced at it, then back at him, my stomach dropping again.

"This is for the better," he said almost inaudibly, swallowing again. "Trust me."

"Will they hurt you when they found out I--"

"They won't care much," he assured me. "You're just a potential test subject to them. Perfectly disposable. There's plenty more where you came from."

I took in my breath sharply and said, "I don't know what I'm going to do, Jonathan…"

"You're going to leave," he told me. "You're going to go home and go back to your life. You're going to find someone who can give you a good life, and you're going to forget about me."

I shook my head in defiance as the tears began to surface. "No, no…I don't wanna forget…"

"You should," he said detachedly, plainly, as if he were giving me instructions on a lesson. "You're going to be happy without me."

"I don't want to," I blubbered, clutching at his coat.

"You must."

"Jonathan…"

He grasped my hands and pried them off himself, hanging his head. "I'm sorry. I can't change this…"

"Yes you can, you can--"

"Shh," he whispered suddenly, tightening his clasp on my hands. He glanced nervously at the door and my eyes followed. I heard what he must have heard; footsteps nearing the cell I'd been in.

"Go," he said softly, fixated on the door. When I didn't move, he glanced at me, piercing through me with his eyes.

"_Go_," he repeated fiercely, shaking my hands.

I nodded vigorously, fearing the person whose footsteps they belonged to as I scrambled onto the table. He guided me onto it, hands on my back and arms. I felt light for a few moments as I stood up, reaching towards the window. He'd been right, I could reach if I stood on it--if I was three inches taller.

"Dammit," he said under his breath, climbing onto the table too. Standing beside me, taller than me even in my heels, he flipped the window open, but not before the door swung too.

Afraid and frozen in fear, I screamed, latching myself onto Jonathan as I met eyes with the Joker, who looked a little too pleased to have stumbled upon on escaping intruder.

"Well, I guess Mickey _is_ on the drugs," he said playfully, looking me up and down. "Cuz you _are_ really cute, ahahaha hee hee!"

---

A/N: More Joker and more sap coming up. :]


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